


Flesh & Bone

by ashtopop



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Post-Episode 68, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 20:37:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8116687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashtopop/pseuds/ashtopop
Summary: Post-Episode 68. Two sunrises does not begin to encompass all they’ve lived in the past days. The hearts of Vox Machina feel scrapped and raw, aching with what did and could and would happen.





	

Two sunrises does not begin to encompass all they’ve lived in the past days. The hearts of Vox Machina feel scrapped and raw, aching with what did and  _could_ and  _would_ happen. Vax didn’t burn Percival’s notes or destroy his guns—not yet, not while there was still hope—but he did send word to the castle and watch the calm, stately demeanor of Cassandra de Rolo crumble to shards at his sister’s feet.

He did notice the way Vex never truly looked at anything, her eyes unfocused and glazed, what sleep she did get troubled by the taunting memory of Saundor, who would have given her the power to save him. He noticed her hand laid over his, whispers responded to only by the creaking of the airship, and her wretched sobs as she insisted she would not leave him. Vax ponders a future of visiting half-half-elven children with absurdly long names and ridiculous winks, and of throttling Percy for what losing him did and would—inevitably, if not now—do to her. He finds himself strangely resigned to it, if only the bastard would  _wake up_.

He wakes up. A gasp of air fills his lungs, his eyes open, and he _lives_. The cold drifts from where it settled in his bones and heart, seeping away into the stone beneath him. There’s the weight of an assortment of miscellanea on his chest—a piece of whitestone and Vax’s raven brooch, one of Vex’s bright feathers atop it. The rest are in his eye line, blurred slightly in the absence of his glasses, and he gasps as they come closer, arms thrown around his neck.

“Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III. You are _never_ do that to us again,” Vex says, choking on a harsh sob, her face buried in the collar stained with blood and soot.

“Of course, dear,” Percy says absently, patting her back. His nose is tucked in her dark hair, but through the strands he can see the relief on the faces of his family. He can smell the incense from Pelor’s chapel in Whitestone mixing with Vax’s sachet and the scent of Vex’s hair. Keyleth’s smile is weak and drawn, tucked into Vax’s chest, and Pike beams, happy tears trailing over the top of her cheekbones. He realizes what’s happened with all the impact of Anna’s pepperbox. “ _Oh._ I died, didn’t I?”

Vex nods, straightening, but her hand doesn’t leave his chest, which rises reassuringly with every breath he takes. Her free hand scrubs at the tear tracks—new and old—that trace down her cheeks.

“How long have I-?"

“Two days,” Vax says, stoic, voice almost a whisper. “Two days, de Rolo.” Pike grips his hand and another wave of healing energy falls over him like a blanket, the radiant glow settling into his skin and beginning to bring him back to his usual pallor rather than that granted to him by death. Two days of Vex and Keyleth’s silent vigil over his body, of Grog’s cask emptied for the fallen, of Scanlan’s instruments fallen silent, of words played on repeat—of living to become a better man and living as long as Whitestone does.

Percy clears his throat, sitting up, his hand to his chest to catch the items they’d placed there. He hands the brooch back to Vax with a grateful nod. The silver metal is cool in Vax’s fingertips despite the radiant energy that pulsed through it moments before. The whitestone Percy palms, query in his eyes as he feels the weight of it.

“Cassandra was here,” Vex says. “But… she couldn’t stay. She didn’t want anyone to see her if…” Percy nods, pocketing the stone. The last item remaining is Vex’s feather, which he leans to tuck back behind her ear with the others, bright and brilliant blue against dark brown. Her breath catches in her throat and she casts her eyes away, struggling to maintain a grip on her emotions. Vax can see the shadows of their respective deaths clinging to them, but both shine in the sunlight of Pelor’s chapel, their grip on each other as new and uncertain as it is necessary.

“Well, back to it then! Lots to do,” she says with a false note of excitement, standing and brushing nonexistent dust off her leather leggings. So Vox Machina follows, and, together, they do not fall.

**Author's Note:**

> this is a mess because I am a mess someone hold me @ [considermehacked on tumblr](http://considermehacked.tumblr.com/)  
> [playlist I'm crying to rn](https://open.spotify.com/user/adncn/playlist/3DzhWhX3Da7EBk0B7NvTFm)


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